Destructive (Combative Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  “So… do something about it,” I challenge.

  His smile is weak. “Oh, I plan to.” Then he leans forward, his mouth pressed to my forehead. “Project Bailey. For the lost and forgotten.”

  Saying that I feel beat would be an understatement. Tiny and I are so exhausted, he can barely chew his food. We’re at the fast-food restaurant Nate took me to the first night he asked me to go with him. Apparently, it’s Tiny’s favorite place in the world.

  “I don’t know how those feds do it, man. And those cops… workin’ that hard all the dang time,” Tiny mumbles. “I can’t even feel my face.” He slaps his cheek. “Oh, no. I can feel it.”

  “It’s pretty exciting, though,” I reply, setting my bag of food by my feet. I’m not really hungry, and besides, my stomach is in knots because I’ve wanted to talk to Tiny about something, but I wanted to wait until the raids were done. I could probably hold off until tomorrow, but I don’t see the point.

  Spinning the ring around my finger, I take in a deep breath, and just… let it out. “So… Nate left me a note.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “It was in his nightstand drawer, along with this,” I say, lifting my hand between us.

  He offers a sad smile.

  “It was just an address. Some place in New York.”

  His grin widens. “Weird. I got the same one. I didn’t get a ring, though.”

  I laugh at that.

  “Have you gone?” Tiny asks.

  “No.” I shake my head. “You?”

  He answers the same. “I looked it up, though. It’s his Uncle Ezio’s church.”

  I push down the lump in my throat. “Oh.”

  He finishes his food, and with his forearm resting on the steering wheel, he turns his entire body to face me. “Do you think you’re going to go?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m kind of scared of what it means.”

  “Yeah, I feel that.”

  We stare at each other, our smiles growing with each passing second.

  I say, “Maybe it would help if we go together?”

  He grins from ear to ear. “Yeah, I’d that like a lot, Bai.”

  57

  BAILEY

  “You ever been to church before?” Tiny asks, his head tilted back to take in the grand architecture of the building.

  “Only when they opened up the soup kitchen,” I tell him.

  He looks down at me, his eyebrow quirked as he offers his elbow. “Shall we?”

  I blow out a breath as I curl my hand around his arm. “We shall.”

  The church is dark, empty, and every one of our steps echoes off the walls. “Maybe we should have called first,” I whisper.

  A teenage boy pops up from between the pews, and Tiny damn near jumps out of his skin. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” the kid laughs out. “Are you here to see Father Gallo?” He looks at his watch. “It’s outside his hours.”

  “Oh, okay,” I mumble.

  “When are his hours?” Tiny asks.

  Before the kid can respond, a voice booms from… somewhere. “Is that you, Tiny?”

  Tiny looks up. “Is that you, God?”

  I elbow his stomach.

  On the far right of the building, an older man appears dressed in all black, bar a small white rectangle at the front of his collar. “Jamie!” he calls out, and the boy runs over to him. Father Gallo hands him some cash, his words too low for me to make out. And then the kid’s off again, running past us with a giant smile and a wave.

  “You just gonna stand there?” Father Gallo bellows. “Come on!”

  Tiny and I shuffle toward him, and then through his open door. It’s clear that we’re in his office now, and the second he closes the door after him, my panic begins. I have nothing to worry about; I’m sure of it. And I’m not scared of a priest. I’m just— I’m afraid of what he has to say.

  “Sit, sit,” he orders, and Tiny and I take up the chairs on one side of his desk. I never let go of him.

  Father Gallo sits in his chair, his forearms on the desk, hands folded together. He looks between Tiny and me—his dark eyes so much like Nathaniel’s. He pauses on Tiny. “You good?”

  “Yeah,” Tiny replies. “I’m getting through it. One day at a time, you know.”

  “It’s a hard loss, I understand, but Nathaniel would hate for you to suffer for long.”

  Tiny nods.

  “And you,” Father Gallo says, his gaze settling on me. My nerves have me looking up at Tiny for comfort. “You’re more beautiful than Nathaniel described you.”

  My cheeks heat when I meet his stare. “Thank you.”

  “Damn, girl as pretty as you—you make me question my life’s work.”

  A nervous giggle bursts from my chest.

  Father Gallo settles back in his seat, his hands resting on his stomach. “You took your sweet time, but it’s nice to see you both here, together. That’s exactly how he would’ve wanted it. It’s kind of poetic when you think about it. His best friend, his love. You join me here today because of him.”

  I clear my throat. “It’s an honor to meet you, Father, but… we don’t really know why we’re here. He gave us this address and no other information.”

  “Ah,” he breathes out, stretching his arms in the air. “That’s why I’m here. To give you the information.” Not getting up from his seat, he rolls his chair toward a cabinet in the corner of the room, pulls out a plastic bag, then wheels himself back. He peers inside the bag, takes out an envelope. “For you,” he says, handing it to me. “Go ahead, open it.”

  “Right now?”

  He nods.

  I rip into the envelope and pull out a note—handwritten.

  Mia Bella Ragazza…

  I choke on a gasp, my tears quick to come. My hands shake, and again, I look to Tiny for comfort. His gentle touch on my shoulder relieves only some of the pain. Father Gallo gets to his feet, rounds the desk until he’s squatting down next to me. He takes my free hand in his. “Go ahead,” he encourages. “He wrote it for you.”

  A shuddering breath leaves me, and I square my shoulders, blink back the liquid heartache as I read line by line, my mouth parting wider the more I read, the more I realize the depth of his love for me. “He found her,” I whisper, looking at Tiny through endless tears. “He found my mother.”

  His eyes widen. “Your birth mother?”

  “No, the one who raised me. Nate found her, and he contacted her. He told her all about me and everything I’ve…” I choke on a sob. “She had no idea, and she’s… she’s so sorry for leaving me. She wants me to live with her and her family in Canada.”

  “That’s good, right?” Tiny asks.

  I can’t speak through the giant knot in my throat, so I nod instead. My mind spins, my heart filled with too many emotions I can’t control them. I grasp Nate’s letter to my chest, the last thing he’ll ever give me, and I give myself another moment to cry, to grieve. Then I look at Father Gallo. “I love him, your nephew. I love him, and I never told him this time around… I never said it, and I’m sorry.”

  “He knew, Bailey,” he says, squeezing my hand. “In here”—he points to his heart—“deep, deep down—he knew.”

  I cry into my hands, loud, unrestrained cries that fill the room.

  “Nathaniel lived a complicated life. He lost both parents so young, and he struggled to find happiness in everyday things…” Father Gallo says, standing up. He moves behind his desk again, pulls out a large box wrapped in newspaper from the bag. “But he found happiness in the things that mattered, in the relationships he would grasp on to forever. In you, Tiny. His mother once told me that he always wanted a little brother.” He smiles while Tiny sniffs back his emotions. “You—you’re not so little, but you get my point, right?”

  I half cry, half giggle while Tiny takes the box from him. Unlike me, he doesn’t hesitate to rip it open. It’s a world globe, and Tiny chuckles, then mumbles, “This motherfucker...”

 
; I gasp, look across the desk at Father Gallo.

  “Watch your fuckin’ mouth in my church,” he says. He eyes the ceiling, mutters, “Jesus Christ, these kids” while making the sign of the cross with his hand.

  “A globe?” I ask after a snicker.

  Tiny faces me. “When Nate asked me what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, I told him everything. My dreams. My plans for the future.” He smiles at the memory. “I told him I wanted to get a globe and spin it and wherever my finger landed… that’s where I wanted to go.”

  Through all my emotions, my excitement for Tiny takes first place. “Spin it!” I say, grasping his arm.

  His eyebrows lift. “Yeah?”

  “Yes!”

  Tiny spins the globe, around and around, his finger pointed in the air. And then he pushes forward, skimming the plastic until it finally stops. I hold my breath, move in at the same time Tiny does. “Australia?” I squeak.

  Tiny’s grin takes up his entire face. “Looks like I’m moving down undah!” He chuckles, his chest bouncing with the force.

  “Hmm,” Father Gallo says, his smile matching ours. “Well, if that’s your plan, it seems like there’s only one more thing you need.” He opens his desk drawer, spends a few seconds there before pulling out two passports. He slides one to each of us.

  “No,” I whisper, opening mine to the photo page. Right there is a picture of me, next to the name: Bailey Anne Wright. “It was important to him that you have your true identity back. You’ll always be Bailey to him. You’ll always be the girl who set peace to the world around him.”

  My gaze drops as I take in his words.

  “He also set up a bank account for you both. There’s more than enough money to set you up for life.”

  “No,” I whisper again in disbelief.

  “He didn’t want you to worry about anything ever again.”

  I stare at the passport, and an endless literal world of possibilities stare back at me.

  Father Gallo opens his drawer again, pulls out four shot glasses and places one in front of each of us, and one in the middle. He pours whiskey in all four, then raises his glass. “To Nathaniel,” he cheers. “May his heart finally beat with ease.”

  58

  BAILEY

  “You’ve been busy the last few weeks,” Dr. Aroma says, smiling over at me. “How are you?”

  “I’ve been… through a myriad of emotions,” I respond, my fingers linked, thumbs circling each other. “I’ve had the lowest of lows and the highest of highs, and I think I’m just now getting back to normal. Back to reality, really.”

  Dr. Aroma nods. “Do you want to start with the lows?”

  I pause a beat, try to gather my thoughts. “I lost someone incredibly important to me. Well, two people, really.”

  “I’m sorry, Bailey.” She frowns. “How are you coping?”

  “I didn’t at first,” I tell her truthfully. “I kind of… I lost it.”

  She shrugs. “That’s understandable.”

  I suck in a breath, hold it, then release the words I’ve been flipping in my mind. “You know, this whole thing, this case… it’s caused so much irreparable damage, and there are so many people left destroyed in its wake. I mean, I reconnected with someone from my past, someone I loved, and that—that was heartbreaking in the most beautiful way.” I stare off into the distance, feeling the tears forming. “And I found a new love so unexpectedly, and that love opened my heart to the world. It made me see that there was more to life than the black and white that was set out for me. I see the world in color now. I see its beauty from the earth all the way to the sky above us. And I think the most rewarding thing I gained through all of this is that I see the beauty in me.” I sniff once, my emotions getting the best of me. “And you know what the most beautiful thing is?”

  “Tell me,” she encourages.

  “It’s that regardless of how destroyed we all are, how damaged our actions have left us… our world fell apart right in front of our eyes, crumbled to ashes, and yet we stand. As survivors, we stand hand in hand, and we rise. We rise from the ashes because we have a purpose. And that purpose might be something so simple as making someone smile or showing someone color or hugging someone because you know they need it. Or that purpose could be bigger than ourselves, bigger than we ever expected.”

  Dr. Aroma stares at me, her eyes conveying a depth of emotion I hadn’t yet seen in her. “I’m so proud of you, Bailey, and I’m honored that I got to witness your growth first-hand. Your strength and determination are inspiring.”

  Heat forms in my cheeks. “Thank you.”

  She finishes taking notes, then dumps her notepad and pen in her bag. Then she sits taller, her hands clasped, her smile unrestrained. “So, what are you going to do now that you’re a free woman?”

  My cheeks puff with the force of my exhale. “I have some decisions to make.”

  “Would you like to go through them with me? We can talk them out if you’re struggling.”

  With a nod, I tell her, “Option A: I can stay here. I’ve been given a second chance with someone… someone I’ve grown to love. He’s on vacation at the moment, but he’ll be back soon, and he said he’d like to try again. Without the case hovering over me and his… commitment, I guess, to his brother, we could really go somewhere, I think.”

  “That’s good, right?” she asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “And option B?”

  I release the tension in my shoulders. “Option B: I move to Canada.”

  “Canada?” she asks, lines forming in her brow. “What’s in Canada?”

  “My stepmom,” I reply. “She’s the only one in my life I remember showing me true love.”

  Dr. Aroma nods. “I remember you telling me about her in one of our earlier sessions. I didn’t know that you knew her whereabouts.”

  “I didn’t. But someone found her and made contact with her. He told her all about me and everything I’ve been through, and she’s invited me to live with her and her family. She has a new husband. He has three kids, and they had two more together. Only one of them still lives at home, so she has room for me. It’s a decent option. I could start new, get away from all of this.”

  Dr. Aroma stares at me a moment, her lips pursed. “Can I be frank with you, Bailey?”

  “Sure.”

  “You don’t seem too excited about either of those choices.”

  I chew the inside of my cheek, my gaze dropping. “It’s a tough decision.”

  “Talk to me,” she says. “Tell me why.”

  I swallow my nerves before making eye contact again. “If I choose option A, I’ll always be reminded of what brought us together in the first place. If I stay, I’m pinning all my hopes on this one relationship, and I’d be relying on him to live up to those hopes. And that’s not fair to him... but more importantly, it’s not fair to me. I don’t want to rely on someone else to make me happy. Not again.”

  “That’s a very valid concern you have there,” she says, offering an encouraging smile. “So, what if you choose Canada with your stepmom?”

  I huff out a breath. “If I choose to move in with her, I think I’m always going to fear that she’ll leave me again. Her leaving caused the majority of my abandonment issues. She was the first heartbreak I ever felt, and as much as I love her and I’m grateful for her offer, I can’t help but think that... that I deserved more from her to begin with.”

  Dr. Aroma’s eyes widen at my words, and she heaves out a sigh. “So, you have option A and option B, and both of those come with high risks.”

  My gaze drops again, my thoughts reeling, contemplating.

  “What are you going to choose, Bailey?”

  I lick my lips, feel my chest expand with my intake of breath. Then I look up at her, wondering if she can see in my eyes what I feel in my heart: clarity. “I’m going to choose option C.”

  “Option C?”

  I nod, feeling hope at my fingertips. “I choose me
.”

  59

  NATE

  “I’d woken up that morning to Bailey sitting naked on the bathroom floor—her thin, pale frame a contrast against the gray of the tiles. She’d been counting, her finger pointed in the air, and her body shaking, and all of a sudden, that ache I had felt tripled in strength, only it hadn’t been because I needed to be with her, needed to feel her in my arms… No, the reasons were worse. A lot worse. Bailey once told me that the only thing she experienced when she pulled the trigger that night I found her was a repeat of the events that led her to where she was. Gunshot. Breath. Darkness. She’d said those three words as if they were all her life meant, but she said she’d been sad that she hadn’t seen her life flash before her eyes. But I had—my life, I mean. That morning, I’d watched Bailey lean forward, her eyes squinting, her lips moving, and her pointed finger slowing, and my heart hurt to the point where I thought I was dying, or maybe I was because it was at that point when my life flashed before my eyes.”

  Doctor Aroma looks up from her notepad, her eyes wide. “And what did you see, Nate?”

  “Bailey and Hickory.”

  A moment of silence passes, longer than I’m comfortable with, and I squirm in my chair, wonder if I’ve said too much. Revealed too much. She lowers her glasses on the bridge of her nose so she can stare at me in the way I’m used to, the kind of stare that truly makes me believe she can see through me. Through my bullshit lies and honest desperation and my silent screams and frustrations.

  I need to get the fuck out of this hell.

  After what feels like forever, she finally speaks, “Do you blame yourself for what happened to Bailey?”

  I don’t skip a beat. “Of course I do.”

  “Let me rephrase that then. Do you forgive yourself for what happened to Bailey?”

  I shake my head. “Forgiveness is futile.”

  “A lot of Catholic teaching is based on forgiveness. Isn’t that what the Our Father prayer is all about?”